


Cakes and Baubles

by jeeno2



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gendry wants to make Arya's twelfth nameday special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cakes and Baubles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Feast" prompt from gameofships' Ghost Ships Challenge on tumblr.

After a solid week’s preparation, Gendry and Hot Pie agree that they finally have enough food to be able to call this a real nameday celebration.

Getting everything ready had been no easy feat.  Every day this week, Hot Pie and Gendry had had to wait until after the suspicious innkeeper had gone to bed before they could sneak into the kitchen to swipe the flour, eggs, and other ingredients they’d needed.  But little by little, and with surprisingly minimal mishap, they eventually managed it. 

And so now, when Arya returns from her fishing expedition, she’ll be greeted with a feast the likes of which Gendry has seldom seen before in his life:  a varied assortment of smoked meats and cheeses; two different berry tarts (raspberry and wild blackberry); four spiced sweetbreads; enough mead for them to have several flagons apiece; and a large chocolate nameday cake the three of them will share.

But as Gendry assesses the inventory for the fourth time today he has a sudden moment of panic.

“What if Arya doesn’t _like_ chocolate?” he asks Hot Pie, frantic.  Neither of them had thought to ask her.

Hot Pie just rolls his eyes.

“Whoever heard of a girl that doesn’t chocolate?” he asks.  “’sides, after all the trouble we went through to make all this for her, if she raises a fuss about not liking it I’ll bash her face in.”

Gendry punches Hot Pie’s shoulder, hard, although not as hard as he could have done, for even suggesting such a thing.  “Arya’s a highborn lady, you idiot,” he scolds as the younger boy rubs his sore shoulder.  “And it’s not proper to say things like that about her.  Not proper at all.”

“Look, you stupid bull.  With all the game you caught and smoked this past week, on top of all the cakes and tarts and breads I made, there’s bound to be loads here she’ll want to eat,” Hot Pie counters, reasonably.  “And lots left over for us besides.”

Gendry nods nervously.  Hot Pie’s words reassure him, but only a little.

* * *

 

At length, Arya arrives at the inn.  She’s covered from head to foot in mud, as though she’s just emerged from a long bath in a creek full of it.

Despite her appearance Gendry’s stomach does a funny flip when he sees her.  His face breaks into a broad grin of its own accord.

“Erm…” he says awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  He spent a good hour planning out what he’d say to her when she arrived.  But now that she’s here all the words he’s ever known have flown right out of his head.

“We – that is, Hot Pie and me – we…”

Hot Pie elbows Gendry in the ribs, hard.  As Gendry doubles over in legitimate pain, he catches Arya stifling a giggle in her palm.  His face burns with embarrassment.

“It’s not every day a girl has her twelfth nameday,” Hot Pie says, easily.  He shrugs his shoulders.  “We just thought we’d have a bit of a to-do for you is all.”

Arya peers around the boys and sees everything they’ve laid out for her nameday celebration.  And she smiles.

Gendry isn’t certain he’s ever seen a sunrise light up a room as much as her filty, mud-streaked grin just lit up this one.

“Well!” Arya says happily, still smiling.  “Let me clean up a bit.  And then let’s eat.”

* * *

 

Arya comes bounding down the stairs two at a time not fifteen minutes later, scrubbed cleaner than Gendry has seen her in at least a fortnight and wearing a tunic the color of spring daffodils.

Gendry’s never seen Arya wearing something so… pretty, before.  It accentuates certain specific parts of her small, but changing, body that she certainly didn’t have when she was a boy.  Gendry blushes a little but forces himself to keep his eyes trained on her face.

As Arya approaches the table her eyes are wide, sparkling with excitement.  “I haven’t seen this much food all at once since I left Winterfell,” she admits.  Her eyes wander greedily over everything.  She starts with Gendry’s smoked venison, turkey, and grouse at one end of the table, licking her lips in anticipation.  After the smoked meats she eagerly eyes the berry tarts in the middle of the table before finally ending up at the chocolate cake right in front of her.

“All right, boys,” she says, rubbing her hands together.  She sits down at the table and grabs a large plate for herself.  “Let’s eat!”

In the end, Hot Pie had been right, of course, and Gendry realizes he’d worried over nothing.  Arya samples every single dish they prepared for her, raving about how wonderful it all tastes with every mouthful.

And she eats the entire chocolate cake all by herself before the boys even have a chance to taste it.

“Hey!” Hot Pie pouts when he realizes what she’s done, his mouth full of sweetbread.  “I _made_ that cake!  I should’ve gotten a slice of it, at least.”

Arya simply shrugs her shoulders in response.  She licks her fingers clean, one by one, meticulously sucking off all the crumbs she missed in her haste to devour the cake as quickly as possible.  Once finished, she sticks her tongue out at Hot Pie to taunt him.  Remnants of the cake’s thick chocolate icing still coat her tongue, making Hot Pie laugh and Gendry blush again.

Arya’s a tiny girl.  Gendry often worries that she’s _too_ skinny, really, for her age.  Their lives are unpredictable, and they miss meals often.  That cannot be good for a growing girl.

It pleases Gendry a great deal that on her nameday at least, Arya will sleep with a full belly.

* * *

 

When they’ve finally eaten their fill, the three of them collect the dirtied plates and platters and carry them into the inn’s kitchen for washing.

As Hot Pie fills the washbasin with suds, the small bracelet hidden in Gendry’s front pants’ pocket weighs heavily on his mind.

He made it for Arya in the forge last week as another nameday present.  This party was a joint effort, but the bracelet is to be a gift just from him.

It took Gendry days to make it.  The steel for the band had been easy enough to find, but bronze doesn’t come cheap these days.  He’d had to make several separate trips to town to barter for both it and the materials he’d needed to make a proper letter “ _A_ ” for the bracelet’s face.

Gendry’s plan all along had been to give her the bracelet after today’s feast.  He’d spent countless hours this week imagining her surprised, happy reaction when he finally gave it to her.  He figured she’d probably want to wear it right away, and might even give him a hug for his trouble.

He lost a lot of sleep this past week imagining that hug.

But as Arya and Hot Pie wash up in the kitchen, chatting amiably, Gendry wanders back to the common room.  Now that the moment is finally here he is paralyzed with fear and indecision.

He reaches into his pocket and finds the bracelet.  With his index finger he traces the delicate “ _A_ ” he’d spent hours creating, making certain it was exactly right and that it fitted perfectly in its setting.

 _Give it to her_ , a small voice in his head pleads.   _She’s who you made it for, isn’t she?_

Gendry closes his eyes and grits his teeth, trying to summon the courage he needs to carry out his plan.

 _She must have half a hundred bracelets back at Winterfell, you idiot bastard_ , a much louder voice cuts in, drowning out all other thought.  _Bracelets made of gold and jewels and other things highborn ladies like.  She’ll laugh at what you made.  She’ll toss it out with the rubbish, and then she’ll laugh at_ you.

Gendry tears at his hair for another long moment as his friends continue washing dishes in the kitchen.  But, at length, he decides what he’s going to do.

He nods his head resolutely.  The issue sorted, he goes into the kitchen to help finish cleaning up.

* * *

 

Hours later, after everyone else has gone to sleep, Gendry takes Arya’s nameday bracelet out of his pocket.  He holds it up to the candle on his bedside table, staring at the delicate “ _A_ ” in the light, his fingers curled tightly around the small band.

They have to leave again on the morrow.  They don’t have a choice.  They’ve been here far too long as it is, and spending even one more night in this place would put them all at risk of discovery.

He wonders if the chamber maid has a name that begins with the letter “ _A_ ”.  Either way, he hopes she’ll be pleased to discover this bracelet on his pillow, just waiting for her, tomorrow morning.

Smiling sadly, Gendry gently sets the bracelet down on the bedside table.  He blows out the candle, lies down on his narrow bed, and tries to sleep.


End file.
